[PFS1] 4-19 Night March of the Kalkamedes (GM Watery Soup) (Inactive)

Game Master Watery Soup

Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch has summoned the team to a small cabin in the Fenwall Mountains in southern Varisia.

Please introduce yourselves.

Cat sssaid Ssself isss 'posssed to be here. Sssquirrel sssaid Ssself isss 'posssed to be here. Ssself isss here.

A large physically powerful lummox of a Nagaji. His scales are green and all of his equipment is dyed or painted various shades of green. Even his breastplate and huge hammer.
He has what appears to be a cute squirrel the size of a beagle perched on his right shoulder. On his left shoulder sits a mangy, scarred, alley cat.

You can hear Reggie coming long before he arrives. He's decked out in full plate armor so even at a walk there is an almost incessant creak and clatter of leather shifting and metal tapping against metal.

But out in the woods, there are so many things for Rowdy to smell and explore and chase and Reggie lets him. So the noise from that armor is cranked up as is the noise from Rowdy's armor and the thudding footfalls of a running, mansized wolf carrying a few dozen pounds of halfling, supplies, weapons and armor.

Finally, after making a full, running circle around the cabin, and going almost halfway back the other way, the pair ride into the structure.

Reggie has his helmet off so the disheveled nature of his plain brown hair is evident. In sharp contrast, his sideburns are carefully groomed.

The wolf he rides on doesn't match Voices' size but is bigger than some of the humans they've adventured with. His fur is gray with a white underbelly and he has yellow, intelligent eyes.

As soon as he sees the animals perching on Voices', he drops into a wide legged stance, his front paws wide before him.

"No!" Reggie barks sharply.

The wolf, plainly disappointed, relaxes but then goes back into the same stance, tail wagging, this time.

"Maybe," the halfling says.

"Howdy. Name's Reginald Bottleberry but that's a lot to say when there's trouble. Since we're prolly gonna be in trouble 'fore this is all done, you can just call me Reggie. This here's Rowdy. I figure he wants to play with your pets there but not every pet wants to play with him."

A bearded man with a large gut and almost as large a pack stuffed with all manner of items takes a seat. To one side, a sword whose cross-guard formed a face with a single ruby eye stares from its sheath. On the other, a skull gazes out of his pack. He looks around for any food or drink the venture-captain may have provided.

"Quite the menagerie we have here," he says with a chuckle in a deep baritone. "Reminds me of the time in Kaer Maga when I had to..." He pauses, seeing Shiela's gaze settling upon him. "Well, perhaps that's a tale for the road. Name's Mavaro, and me and my less... fuzzy... companions are looking forward to a grand adventure with all of you!"

A tall, thin young woman with slightly-pointed ears comes hurrying up the dirt path and into the cabin just a few paces behind the large bearded man. She carries a yellow and white cat in her arms and sports a backpack on her shoulders, as well as a longspear and some other bits of weaponry.

"We're here! We would've been here sooner but kitty really enjoys nosing around when we're outside and that slowed us down," she exclaims, sounding a bit out of breath. "Otherwise we would've been here probably half an hour ago."

She smiles a bit shyly as she looks around at the agents who have already arrived, not recognizing any faces this time. "Anyway, I'm Fran and this is my kitty and best friend in all the world, Mr. Sunshine. It's nice to meet everyone."

The cat, who appears to be an adult male, looks around at the gathered crowd and especially at the critters accompanying some of the other agents. He sniffs the air, tail swishing slightly.

"Mow!"

I'll be nice to them Fran, if they're nice to me. If not, I will scratch them! Especially that dog.

Cat turns an points his butt a the wolf and starts liking himself. A clear indication on his opinion of canids.

Squirrel squeaks, Oh what a cute doggie! But he probabbly plays rougher than I like.

A light-blue skinned elderly man with a few wisps of white hair slowly opens the door and shuffles in, but not as slow for someone appearing his age.
Heading towards an empty chair in the corner of the cabin, he sees the yellow and white cat in the woman's arms, and gives it a little scrub behind an ear as he shuffles past.
Oh. Hello there, kitty.
He squints at the lady with an amiable grin and then continues to the chair and wearily takes a seat.
Ah. Good. he sighs in relief.
Looks like I made it to the right place this time. Good day, Missus Heidmarch.
He gives the Venture Captain a polite nod and then addresses the other agents.
Greetings, my fellows. I am Shamus. Or, you may call me Hal-aeboji. It means "Grandfather" in Tien. he says with a wink.
A pair of ifrit twins called me that on my last mission and I took no offense. Somewhat fitting, you might say. It was flattering, actually. Well, anyway, It is a pleasure to meet you all.

"Wowza! Look at all these fine beasties!"

A gnome stands squarely in the middle of the doorway, hands on his hips as he surveys the various cats, dogs, and squirrels crowding the room. His armor, though well-made, looks as if it had just recovered from being rolled in the dirt outside, as does the man's hair - though from the leaves and twigs perched in it, one might think it had encountered a bush on its way to the ground.

"Name's Reckum!" the man continues excitedly. "Heard we might be goin' on a walk 'n' figured we might see some new beasties along th' way. Wouldn't that be somethin'!?"

Another cat rides in on a new person.

Surely his Best Pal Reggie will let him play with this one!

But, his Best Pal Reggie makes the "No" noise repeatedly so, no playing.

Then, his Best Pal Reggie gets off of him so Rowdy flops down on the floor, looking around with only half interest and wondering if anyone is going to notice that he's the most miserable wolf in the world and that nothing worse has ever happened to any creature, ever.

He whines once but his Best Pal Reggie makes the "No" noise more sharply then some other noises so apparently, he has to suffer in silence.

Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch (See Slide 2) glances out a window as the last wisps of twilight fade over the Fenwall Mountains. Turning from the sight, she runs her hand along the rustic cabin’s wall and stands beside an occupied wooden bed before addressing the gathered Pathfinders and their animal companions.

“This,” the venture captain says, gesturing to the man thrashing around violently, straining against the bonds that lash him securely to the bed, “is our colleague, Kalkamedes."

"Every night for several weeks now, he has fallen into a deep slumber and tried to sleepwalk right out of his cottage. If not restrained, he marches straight north, eventually falling off a cliff or into a bog as if trying to get himself killed in an attempt to reach an unknown goal.” As though he were expressing disagreement, the man tied to the bed suddenly begins pumping his limbs even harder, the violent spasms threatening to smash the bed into splinters.

“There are those who have recently criticized the Pathfinders for our indifference to the plight of our fellow field agents. It’s time to show that’s not true. I want you to help Kalkamedes, whether he wants it or not. Several of our best spellcasters have attempted an extensive list of magical cures, but whatever sleepwalking curse or effect he’s under tenaciously resists our efforts. All we can do is keep him safe.” Heidmarch pats him with a degree of professional affection, and Kalkamedes rewards her by trying to swat her with his head.

“Kalkamedes’s friends are at their wits’ end, so we are going to attempt the only thing that we have not tried: we’re going to let him go tonight. That’s where you come in. I want you to follow him and keep him safe and in one piece. Let him get to wherever his addled brain thinks he needs to go so badly. Maybe, just maybe, if he gets there, you can find a way to help him. Maybe you can determine who or what did this to him and find a way to undo it.”
Heidmarch pulls out a serrated knife. “Now before I cut him free, does anyone have any questions or last minute preparations?”

You may ask questions of Heidmarch, but not prepare any new spells - you'll have to work with your default spells for this scenario.

Point of order: I assume that people are not opening spoilers not directed towards them. If you'd like to share spoilered information, please explicitly note it (in character or out of character) by either reposting the information or declaring "spoiler open."

"A good night's rest is important," Mavaro says with a chuckle, "though I suppose my normal suggestion would not help in this case."

As his joke falls flat, he continues. "Ahem. What do we know about the area to the north of here? Locations of note, threats, possible destinations?"

"Oh, good. For a second, I figured you were takin' lessons from Zarta," Reggie says when Sheila explains why the man is tied down to the bed.

He nudges Rowdy with a toe and the wolf gives him a look for a moment then jumps to his feet. With a well practiced motion, the halfling slips into the saddle.

"Just follow him and make sure he don't get himself croaked? Seems easy enough. Any idea how far he might be going? I mean, I wish I would have known what was happenin' first so I could take a nap but if it gets to be this time tomorrow and he's still walking, we're all gonna be hurtin' for sleep."

"There sure are quite a few animals in this group."

Good question, Reggie. How far has our sleepy friend here wandered until finding himself in an unfortunate predicament? Hours? Days?
Shamus looks over at the hapless fellow twisting and turning in his sleep.
I have never seen nor heard of this man before. Well, anyway, looks like I have a friend to shuffle along with.

A spark ignites in Shamus' head.
Just to keep the poor chap more safe, maybe we should attach a rope to him and tie the other end to myself. Maybe with about just ten feet of slack between us?

"Ahem. What do we know about the area to the north of here? Locations of note, threats, possible destinations?"

"The terrain is rough - with rocks and cliffs, plus brambles and wild animals. We are unaware of any major settlements, but there are caves dotting the landscape that we haven't fully explored."

"Any idea how far he might be going?"

"How far has our sleepy friend here wandered until finding himself in an unfortunate predicament? Hours? Days?"

"We don't know how far he wants to go, as he gets into trouble pretty quickly. He's never actually traveled even an hour before he's hurt himself. We don't think he's going far - he must get to wherever he's going by sunrise, or he'll wake up."

"Just to keep the poor chap more safe, maybe we should attach a rope to him and tie the other end to myself. Maybe with about just ten feet of slack between us?"

"Do what you must, but go easy on him. Remember the point of this is to help him!”

"This reminds me of one time when my Ma and Granny made my sister help 'em pluck chickens. See, they didn't want them gettin' dirty so, after they wrung their necks, they tol' my sister to make sure they stayed on the grass and didn't get into the dirt," Reggie says.

"Well, my sister, she's 'bout 4 or 5 and eager to help only, after the first chickens get killed and start flappin' all 'round like they do, she realizes...how do you herd somethin' what can't see nor hear you?"

"I think she's still traumatized," he says with a laugh.

This story brought to you by: Things that actually happened to my aunt.

Hsss. Mrowr. Rweoerw.

Cat follow man easssy. Ssself pull man out of hole if fall in.

knowledge local, untrained: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (5) - 3 = 2

Please tell me someone has at least a rank in Knowledge Local. Voices is ready to go at any time.

That's... quite a story, Reggie.

This Kalkemedes fellow can't see nor can he respond to us. I still recommend we tie a rope to him and myself. If he does attempt to walk off a cliff, I'll be able to prevent him from doing so with a tug of the rope.

He turns to speak to the Venture Captain.
Uh, excuse me, Misses Heidmarch. Seeing that I do have some prestige with the Society, I would like to procure a wand of cure light wounds, if I may.

He looks closely again at Kalkemedes.
I could swear this man's name sounds familiar.

knowledge (local) & Well-Connected: 1d20 + 2 + 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 2 + (5) + 1 = 13
F***.

Spend 2 pp on the wand.
I'm also checking off a box from my Well-Connected boon. It lets me add 1d6+1 to certain skills once per adventure. It's on the chronicle sheet for #10-6: Treason's Chains.

Kn. Local: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

"Oh! Now that I think about it, I've heard of Mister Kalkamedes," Fran suddenly pipes up. "He's a veteran Pathfinder but he's not really famous or anything outside of southern Varisia - but that's probably better than any of us, right?" she explains.

"But you know, he did other things before he was a Pathfinder. Way back in the day, he actually swore an oath to become a paladin...but then one day just sort of...dropped it all and left. And no one really understood why..." Fran's voice trails off, her brow furrowed in thought.

People do things for all sorts of reasons, though.

"Anyway, um...he's mostly retired but his peers in the Society still think very highly of him after all this time. But even though he's mostly retired he's not been sitting around. I heard he developed an interest in lore of the ancient runelords and the rare heroes who dared to oppose the runelords’ tyranny! That's why he came all the way out here from Absalom - to further his studies."

For a moment she stops speaking and it seems as though this might be all she has to say about Kalkamedes but then her eyes suddenly widen as one last tidbit comes to mind. "Oh! You know, I heard sometimes Kalkamedes would carry around a broken sword...and the rumor was that it was actually alive. Well, sentient, I mean. Had a personality and everything! They said it and Kalkamedes were best friends!"
______________

Paraphrased a bit, but you get the idea. Feel free to open all of the Knowledge spoilers, if you like!

"A trusty weapon is a Pathfinder's best friend, especially when you can share a good conversation with it." The single red gem in Mavaro's blade seems to gleam.

Mr. Sunshine blinks and then looks around at Fran.

"Mow!"

Humans will make pets out of anything, won't they?

"You ever seen what paladins gotta do and give up? I'm more surprised anybody actually goes through with it than that somebody quit in the middle," Reggie comments.

He runs his hand through his hair, only messing it up more. "Let's just hope that when he goes off the cliff, you're strong enough that you don't just go over after him."

"Well, that story 'bout the sword sure sounds nice. I wouldn't mind havin' me a talkin' sword. Although...given Mr. Kalkamedes predicament, I figure there's a better 'n average chance that there sword's got somethin' to do with all this. 'Fact, anybody see it layin' 'round any place?"

Reggie goes looking for the weapon.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

Reggie starts looking around the room for a talking sword.

The wardrobe in Kalkamedes’s bedchamber contains his outdoor clothing (an explorer’s outfit) and a pair of strong boots. A drawer in the end table next to Kalkamedes’s bed contains a series of unfinished charts mapping the Fenwall Mountains.

"Maybe he's still forging his sword," Reggie muses. Despite his companion's protests, he looks in the stove, where he finds the remains of a crumpled and burned charcoal sketch (see Slide 3, left). The tattered sketch depicts a squat fortress under a full moon enshrouded by clouds.

Fran and Mavaro check under the stove, and get faces full of ashes. Shandy, Reckum, and Voices notice a level on the back of the stove.

The lever releases the catch to a hidden compartment concealed in the floor under a stack of water barrels. Within, a metal chest contains some of Kalkamedes’s adventuring gear: bracers of armor +1, a mud-splattered cloak of resistance +1, an elixir of swimming, a dried gourd containing a potion of cure light wounds; and an irregularly-shaped mithral flask with jigsaw-like edges containing a potion of hide from undead. The razor-sharp flask doubles as a caltrop or an improvised
dagger.

Most importantly, also secreted away inside the chest is a magical blade. This glittering blade is clearly defective, and a rippling break runs from its tip to its hilt like a crack in a broken window. (see Slide 3, right)

Kalkamedes struggles violently against the bonds, impatient to get underway.

Mavaro studies the blade, somewhat disappointed when it does not talk to him.

Mavaro is a little disappointed, but not too disappointed. He knows that intelligent objects rarely reveal themselves immediately, preferring to observe for a while to see if their wielders' intentions are pure.

Let's get Kalkemedes dressed into his adventuring gear. Some magical protection for him might be good as we travel.

"Well, this sure looks important," Reggie says, showing the picture. "I'll bet my last copper that this here's where he's tryin' to get to every night."

He's much more impressed by everyone else's finds.

"That's a right fine idea, Shamus. 'Cept for the potions, course. He won't know when to drink 'em hisself, I figure. We can give 'em to 'im when he needs 'em."

He grabs the cloak and clambers up on the bed in his full armor to drape it over his shoulders and and fasten it.

When the man's wiggling too much to do that, he just wraps the top around his neck sideways and clasps it, assuming it will fall right when Kalkamedes gets out of bed and starts walking.

Voices shrugs at Shamus, Ok, Ssself do thisss. and pushes the bracers onto the man's arms.

Fran wipes the ash and soot from her face, though she still ends up with a few smudges here and there, and nods. "Oh yes, we can't just let him go for a walk in his pajamas - he's probably already ruined several sets as it is."

Seeing that Reggie has taken care of the cloak and Voices the bracers, she grabs Kalkamedes' boots and begins doing her best to get them on his feet.

"Does anyone know what that drawing's supposed to be?" Fran asks as she ducks a flailing foot and works on getting some bootlaces tied.

Kn. History: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

"I'm afraid I'm not from around here and don't know a whole lot about the area. Kitty and I haven't really been on any assignments around here, either..."

”It’s an adventure ‘s wot it is!” Reckum answers gleefully as he wrassles the other boot onto Kalkemedes’s foot. ”So let’s get going!”

"I don't think we can do much until our friend is ready," Mavaro says as he buckles the sword-belt onto the sleeping man.

The Pathfinders put the bracers of armor and cloak of resistance on Kalkamedes. To be clear, Mavaro - are you strapping on the sword, or just the belt? Who is carrying the sword if Kalkamedes isn't?

Fran looks at the maps but she can't quite make anything of it. It seems to be written in some kind of shorthand.

---

Immediately after Sheila Heidmarch finishes cutting his bonds, Kalkamedes totters out the door of his cabin and begins stumbling northward.

The night sky is clear with a waning quarter crescent moon that provides dim light, but the minimal illumination is of no help to the sleepwalking Pathfinder, whose staggering gait propels him blindly forward with closed eyes.

Kalkamedes has no sense of self-preservation, and his somnambulance might make even the most mundane acts of navigation surprisingly difficult.

My gods, finally! Let's go, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!

"Whoa! He's off, folks!" Reggie exclaims as Kalkamedes starts his nightly march. He hurries over to Rowdy, his armor clanking loudly as he does so. He jumps into the saddle and taps him to get him moving.

The halfling maneuvers the wolf so that it is striding next to the somnambulist.

If Kalkamedes wants to veer left, he's going to have to push a human sized wolf and a half human sized halfling out of the way.

Mavaro spends a minute using his object reading ability on the blade, then slides it into Kalkamedes' sheath. The former Pathfinder cant use it while sleeping, but may need it in a moment when he wakes.

Watching the sleeping man stumble forward, Mavaro prepares to cast levitate on Kalkamedes if he is in imminent danger from something on the ground (or missing from it).

Shamus takes a look at the maps.
This is some kind of shorthand writing. Quite messy. Perhaps I can make something of it.
linguistics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

The maps lead to nearby gold mines. However, there is enough of the surrounding area that we could lead Kalkamedes, rather than the other way around, and prepare the path for him.

There's no use with our sleep walking friend carrying the sword. Mavaro, you should carry it. Also, he is an ex-paladin. That sword could have some malevolent intentions, after all. It could even have been that sword, if it supposedly is intelligent, that caused him to fall from grace as a paladin. Either way, we must be cautious.

”On it!” Reckum whoops excitedly. ”I’ll flatten anything that gets in the way!” He pulls out his oversized hammer and gives the ground a few wumps for good measure before trotting to catch up with the sleepwalking Pathfinder.

Reckum has a hard time getting out in front of Kalkamedes. Kalkamedes sleepwalks at 20', which is also Reckum's speed.

A quick scan of speeds: Fran is 30' when unarmored (and appears to be unarmored), Mavaro is 20', Reggie is 15' (but riding Rowdy, whose speed is 50'), Shamus is 30', Voices is 40'. So Reckum and Mavaro, if you want to scout ahead, you'll need to increase your speed or find a way to decrease Kalkamedes'.

"Places to be, people to see ... zzzz ..."

Perfectly happy to stay by his side.

"Whoop!" Fran yelps as Kalkamedes quickly takes off once freed from his bed. She scoops Mr. Sunshine up in her arms and hurries after the sleepwalking man and the rest of her companions, calling back over her shoulder, "We'll see you in the morning, Miss Heidmarch!"

"Hmm...kitty and I should probably bring up the rear, I guess?" she asks as she falls in behind the others. "I can see a little better out here than a human can but I'm not really trained to track or scout. Oh! And speaking of seeing, do we need a light or is everyone okay?"
______________

Fran (and Mr. Sunshine) will walk at the rear of the group unless someone else prefers to do so~

A mere half hour after they set out, Kalkamedes twists his ankle on a rock. He suffers 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1) + 2 = 4 damage.

"Tis but a flesh wound ... zzz ..."

"Somebody come walk beside him over here. Me 'n Rowdy are gonna head on up a bit and make sure there ain't no trouble waitin' on us."

He frowns as Kalkamedes does himself an injury. "Guess I oughta be gettin' all the rocks outta the way, too."

It's not long after they leave the cabin that Reggie pulls a stone out of a pouch. He holds it up in front of his face and lets it go and the glowing rock slowly orbits his head, providing light.

Shamus takes a quick look at Kalkemedes' ankle.
heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Oh, dear. He's injured a bit badly. I'll give him a couple taps with my wand.
Shamus pulls out his wand and taps the sleep walker twice.
CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Reckum happily accompanies the sleepwalker and shaman. ”And then one time, when I was out fish in’ with my Ma, she caught ‘erself a whale ‘n’ it almost capsized the boat is was so big!” he chatters incessantly. ”But I ran over ‘n’ we pulled, ‘n’ the whale pulled, ‘n’ then it started thunderin’ and lightningin’ and my shirt got all wet because the whale pulled us into a wave, ‘n’ then...”

Cat walksss front sssilent sssneaky. Cat tellsss isss troublesss.
Cat will try to stay about 20' ft in front of where it seems like Kalkamedes is heading. Will yowl (then hide) if something that someone needs to rush forward to check or come back to tell Voices if he thinks stealth is required.
Cat's take 10 on stealth is a 36.
Cat's take 10 on perception is an 18.

Voices walks beside Kalkamedes on his left. Man isss bad walker.
If there is something an idiot like Voices can recognize as an issue, he will put out an arm to block the old agent or simply pick him up and carry him across any hazards.

Shamus don't use all your charges, I have a wand of infernal healing that I don't mind using. We can alternate if you like.

Shamus pulls out his wand and taps the sleep walker twice.

[dice=CLW]1d8+1
[dice=CLW]1d8+1

He only needs to do it once, only 4 hp damage since you didn't let him walk on it.

---

An hour later, Kalkamedes’s path takes the group straight into a thick copse of thorns.

Reckum happily accompanies the sleepwalker and shaman. ”And then one time, when I was out fish in’ with my Ma, she caught ‘erself a whale ‘n’ it almost capsized the boat is was so big!” he chatters incessantly. ”But I ran over ‘n’ we pulled, ‘n’ the whale pulled, ‘n’ then it started thunderin’ and lightningin’ and my shirt got all wet because the whale pulled us into a wave, ‘n’ then...”

Since it seems as though a stealthy approach isn't really in the cards, Fran is happy to chip in on the conversation as the party moves along.

"A whole whale? I've never been fishing but aren't whales supposed to be very big? Oh, or maybe it was a baby whale you caught - that would make sense," she replies, apparently genuinely interested in Reckum's story.

"Mr. Sunshine and I've never been fishing - just riding along as passengers. But maybe we should try it sometime, because kitty actually doesn't seem to mind the sea trips we have to take. Perhaps he was a mouser on a ship in a past life!"

Noting that they seem to be heading into some areas of thicker undergrowth Fran calls up ahead, "Will we be able to get through? It's not fun trying to force your way through thorns - I found that out once when I was very small."